Alternate Endings
by Vastly-Superior
Summary: This story is about the endings JKR didn't come up with they may just leave you permanently scarred.  Though odds are it won't be shaped like a lightning bolt.  And from experience I can tell you it won't be on the forehead...
1. Chapter 1

**Book -** Alternate Endings

**Chapter One -** Duel to the Death

**Authors - **phirypinkflamingo, Vastly-Superior

**Disclaimer** - The text is ours, the situation and characters are not. We're trying to be funny, if it doesn't work please let us know. If we offend you, don't read our series. Some language. Some sexual references [gotta catch 'em all!

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All the students waited, chatting anxiously, staring at the doors to the Great Hall. This would be the final battle, the duel to the death. Or in the case of some of the less capable students, just the death. The doors burst open loudly, exploded inward with a well-placed spell, and the Death Eaters moved in to slam against the wave of weak little children. Instantly, the relatively quiet and still room was transformed into a big rainbow-colored shouting match as yells, curses, and the occasional first year were sent across the room. It basically looked like a disco. 

A little girl suddenly let out a high pitched scream that made everyone stop. "VOLDEMORT!" As one, the smoothie of people turned as one to the door. (who was happy for all the attention, but sad it was in pieces.) Harry Potter moved to the front of the mass as the evil wizard stalked in.

Harry glared at the man who dared come near him without his wand out.

Harry was ready. He was calm. He hadn't really prepared for this moment but, he thought, he might as well keep his wand steady -- what he'd done he'd done, and he was here, ready for the final duel. "Hello there, Tom. Ready to settle this?" Harry stared coldly into the big, red, anime-like eyes of his parents' killer.

"Hello, Harry," Voldemort said with a smug, cool voice. He looked oddly... happy. Smiling. Almost grinning. Harry dismissed the thought. "I have some things to tell you, first."

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly, but it settled back in its place. "Okay."

"On the night your parents died," Voldemort began, "our minds connected. That is when I realized our special bond. I'm sure you realized it several years later, but let me tell you, Harry, this bond of ours made me feel very strange. I'd never experienced a feeling like it before. I needed to find you. So I set out, as soon as I knew where you'd gone to Hogwarts, to locate you, to speak to you about us.

"That dumbass Quirrel ruined the night, however, as you no doubt recall, with his rowdy intrusions on our conversation. So, I was unable to reach you. Then, the next year, you were so preoccupied with that blood traitor that you were not focusing your attention on me. I was feeling at a loss, like you had forgotten the bond of the Avada Kedavra."

Harry had no idea what was going on, and was only half listening. Instead, he was staring into Voldemort's eyes, gripping his wand tighter with every passing instant, anxious to avenge his parents' deaths.

"So," Voldemort continued, "your third year came, and I did not see you once the whole year. My servant had to recount his meetings with you for me, and with every word he spoke I grew more and more restless. I needed to see you, to sort out this persevering issue. When we were apart, Harry, I writhed in anguish and regret when I thought of you. My mind was nearly crushed when I couldn't see you that entire year. However, the next year we had our most intimate interaction, in that graveyard. This body, which I possess now, has your own blood, Harry, coursing through its veins. I had solved the physical aspects of the problem, in that I was always near you, and emotionally it helped to know this. However, I still needed to see you, to discuss the bond, and to finish the mission.

"During your fifth year, I knew what I needed to do, and I set out to meet you, somehow. When we finally saw each other at the Ministry, I was elated. Here, the chance was presented to me, and I took it! Alas, that ancient hag, Dumbledore, intruded very much like Quirrel (only without the dying, of course).

"I realized then that he was in the way of our proper meeting, so I had him eliminated as well, though my original plans didn't roll over quite as well as I wanted."

A tall blond haired Slytherin boy slid back between the cover of two even taller, fatter boys.

Voldemort continued, "Finally, this year, I knew the fated meeting would occur. And believe me, I came prepared. I memorized this page-long speech and everything."

Harry tightend the grip on his wand, and wiped a sweaty palm off on his robes. When would he get to the point? Was Voldemort going to bore him to death?

"So, Harry, are you ready?" Voldemort asked, his big red eyes glittering as if he was on the verge of tears.

Harry lifted his wand, shouting, "Expelli--" but he broke off when he saw Voldemort... kneeling.

Voldemort looked up at the seething boy, and produced a small box. Opening it slowly, he revealed a ring with an emerald snake and a ruby lion interwoven on a plate of diamond, resting on the actual gold ring. "Will you marry me?"

A mass gaping ensued. The entire hall was wide-eyed in disbelief.

Harry was most shocked of all. "What. The. Hell?" Harry stuttered.

Voldemort smiled, a crystal tear dripping from his left eye. "Well?" He asked.

"What have you been cursed with? Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Harry knew he was dreaming. This couldn't be happening.

Voldemort smirked, "Oh Harry, I love it when you talk dirty."

For a few seconds, the entire hall was totally silent; no one moved at all.

Then Harry fainted, and his head hit the marble floor loudly.

Voldemort winced, then rushed to Harry's aid. The students and professors would have cared, but they were too completely confused to do anything but breathe. No one made a sound as Voldemort cradled his limp darling, and flew off with him through a broken window and into the starry night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Book** - Alternate Endings

**Authors** - phirypinkflamingo, Vastly-Superior

**Chapter Two** - King's Cross Station (Again)

**Disclaimer** - Dialogue is ours, the rest isn't. Also I suggest reading HP7 prior to reading this FanFic. Unless you want the semi-death of Harry ruined for you.

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Harry awoke.

Hang on, he thought. I can't awake, I'm dead.  
He sat up to find that he was at King's Cross station. Again.

"But wasn't I just here?"

Harry was elated. He must have cheated death. Again!

"No, sorry," said a voice behind him, and he jumped, quickly thrusting his hand into his empty pocket where his wand should have been.

"You don't have your wand, boy, that was not physically part of you at your death," came the voice again.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked in disbelief. This was just as before... so he had escaped death again!  
"You haven't," Dumbledore said for no apparent reason.  
"What?" Harry asked, feeling Confunded (he assumed so much, anyway, as he was not aware of ever having been Confunded).  
"You haven't cheated death. That's why this time you're wearing a white bathrobe." He said, smiling. At Harry's perplexed expression, he added "courtesy of the guys up there -- here."  
Amazed, he realized that Dumbledore had just read his mind. Then, the words he'd actually spoken sank in. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you are dead, Harry."

"I -- but -- you -- we -- before!" Harry sputtered.

"Yes... ," Dumbledore said sweetly, smiling like Mrs. Weasley did when she watched her family eat a fresh batch of her cookies.

"So...," Harry trailed.

"This is different."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean you weren't dead before!" Dumbledore snapped, a hint of annoyed annoyance betrayed in his tone. "Before, you were having a little tea party in your mind, so to speak. This time, it is in your soul. Everyone's soul hosts one last tea party before it disappears into nothingness. The soul invites one person whose, company it wants."

Oh, yeah, where's the tea? Harry thought sourly.

"No need to get moody, now." Dumbledore said in his more strict voice, the one that was naturally developed by anyone who spent more than a week working in a school.

"Yeah well, I'm kind of DEAD here. It's not exactly my favorite day ever," said Harry. He glanced up at Dumbledore. "Besides, why aren't my parents here? I want to invite my parents!"

"The soul chooses who to invite, Harry. It also chooses the setting and, I'm afraid, the drinks." Dumbledore frowned at the barren landscape before him.

"So you mean deep down, I don't want to meet my parents?" Harry seethed, his fists clenched.

"You want answers."

"Fuck answers! I want my mother!"

"Calm down"

"And why should answers matter now? I'm freaking DEAD!"

"Anyway, this is your soul's final tea party. Savor every moment," Dumbledore continued, ignoring him.

"But..." Harry began, at last calming down a bit. "I'm really dead, this time, eh?"

"Yes."

"Not just my soul, then, the whole package is dead?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry," he said through a sigh.

Shit, Harry thought for the second time that day --  
"Hey, watch your language, young man."


	3. Chapter 3

Book - Alternate Endings

Chapter – 3

Authors - phirypinkflamingo, with minor editing and an ending by Vastly-Superior

Disclaimer – We used some of phirypinkflamingo and Vastly-Superior's material from one of their books, (Ch. 1 of Alternate Endings in Vastly-Superior's profile, to be precise) but we have their permission. We used JKR's characters and setting, but we wrote the actual dialogue, situation, etc. We totally retain the right to cap yo' ass if you use this material without our permission (or at least an honorable mention).

All the students waited, chatting anxiously, staring at the doors to the Great Hall. This would be the final battle, the duel to the death. Or in the case of some of the less capable students, just the death. The doors burst open loudly, exploded inward with a well-placed spell, and the Death Eaters moved in to slam against the wave of weak little children. Instantly, the relatively quiet and still room was transformed into a big rainbow-colored shouting match as yells, curses, and the occasional first year were sent across the room. It basically looked like a disco.

Too much like a disco. The Doors (having been repaired) were torn apart s second time, filling the room with "Turn the Beat Around". In danced Voldemort, the (almost) conqueror of (almost) the entire world. The entire room collectively gasped. The amount of glitter on him sparkled like a really amazingly shiny rainbow. Once everyone got over their temporary blindness, they could see Voldemort was wearing…. Four inch platform boots with stars on them. Sparkly stars. His pants were white, but his crotch was covered in bright purple glitter. His shirt had flames climbing up it, and, horror of all horrors; it was opened halfway down his chest.

McGonagall fainted.

He started twitching his hips, and some hoped he was having a seizure. Most of the onlookers realized he was dancing.

"DANCE! Dance!" he said.

They all started dancing, fearing for their lives. Rightfully so, for when Voldemort realized Crabbe and Goyle weren't dancing, he Avada'd them with a simple flick of his wand, while still dancing. His Death Eater pals shot him admiring looks from around the room.

Meanwhile, "Play that funky music White Boy" came on.

Voldie squealed, "Ooooh! I love this song!" and started gyrating his hips, causing mass nausea in the onlookers.

All but one. The crowds cleared as Harry Potter entered the fray, wearing a black jacket with a sparkly _yellow_ crotch (he had a mood-crotch installed, which changed the colors of the glitter along with his moods -- moments ago it had been a calm blue).

He sauntered up to Voldemort and said, "So. Would you like to dance, Voldie-kins?"

"But of course!" Voldie-kins (ahem) responded.

Suddenly Harry started singing "I will survive."

Ending #1 (chapter 3.33)

And they boogied all night long.

Or at least, long after the still sane people had left the room (which basically included them two and about five first-year Hufflepuffs).

And then Voldemort's knees gave in. "Damn!" He screamed as he toppled down.

"YES!" Harry cried in long-awaited, glorious victory.

The defeated Voldemort, laying on his knees on the cold stone floor, sat there in ridicule among the few remaining onlookers, as Harry boogied toward the Gryffindor common room to recount his victory to anyone who would listen.

Ending #2 (chapter 3.67)

Voldemort started to dance. Harry pulled out his 12 gauge and shot him.

"I will survive, bitch."


End file.
